This is Dear Diary worthy.

The weather's cold enough for a postsecret-esque confession.


I always wanted to be black when I grew up.

Then again, there was also the phase where I wanted to be Albino. And today, I want to be East Indian.

I'm bored of my face.

I've been looking at it my whole life.

It's like when you look at something so often that you don't even look at it anymore.

I walk through this park every day, twice a day, on my way to and from school. And only yesterday did I notice Mr. Robbie Burns brooding in the corner. (I contemplated doing a Highland fling for him, but I'll wait until January when Robbies Burns Day rolls around and then I'll pull out my gillies and make my fingers curl into little stags.)

I'm too much in my own head right now.